


There Used to be Children There

by Candyjar



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Characters are not mentioned by name though, Other, Undertale Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 08:24:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5327306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candyjar/pseuds/Candyjar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asgore's house is really lonely now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Used to be Children There

There used to be children in the house.  
  
The pitter-patter of their feet down the hallways filled the air every morning. The scent of pie would always wake them, beckon them to the kitchen. Every morning their loud thumps would stir him from his sleep, and they’d all sit together at the table. They’d talk, laugh, and eat. It was always a good morning.  
  
After breakfast the children would rush off to play, and whether it was in their room or outside, they’d always manage to make a mess. Toys strewn about carelessly, muddy foot and paw prints covering the hardwood floors. How the two small children managed to practically destroy the place daily never ceased to bewilder him. In a way, though, he liked it.  
  
Sometimes he’d peek outside to check on them, especially after a certain incident involving buttercups. They’d play weird little adventure games and run through the flowers, rolling around and attacking each other like pups. Sometimes on wetter days they’d make mud pies. Unfortunately, playing with mud usually turned into mudball fights, which was perhaps the messiest of their games and always required a bath afterward.  
  
In the evening, after dinner, the children would stay inside, often playing in their room. They’d jump on their beds, yell, sprint around the house, and leave their toys in the middle of high-traffic areas. It almost seemed like they set them there on purpose, colorful traps that the adults wouldn’t notice until the pain in their paws would register.  
  
Bedtime was hardly quieter. The two would get tucked in and told bedtime stores, but they never went straight to sleep. Sometimes he’d walk by their room and notice the light still on underneath their door. He’d walk in to find them playing with toys or drawing, and he’d have to put on his stern face and put them back to bed. Back then, he’d found it annoying.  
  
When he passed their room and heard them talking, however, he’d leave them be. He didn’t mind if they talked quietly from their beds, laughing and whispering and trying to keep quiet. They were often unsuccessful, their snorts and cackles too loud to fool anyone. Nighttime talks were frequent, and he thought they were cute. She didn’t mind them so much either, though when it got too late she’d sometimes stop them. She was always worried they weren’t getting enough sleep, but when morning came their energies were always just as high as the morning before.  
  
But the children were gone now, and had been for a long time. She was gone too, taking any remaining warmth that had stuck around after they’d passed. The smell of pie no longer wafted through the house every morning. There were no more mud prints, mud pies, or mud fights. He’d give anything to hear them playing in their room when they were supposed to be asleep. He’d give anything to hear their voices, the pitter-patter of their feet, the snorts and cackles and yelling.  
  
But their rooms were quiet, their toys dusty. Without them, the house was still and lifeless. The longer they were gone, the more the house seemed physically drained of color. The vases of golden flowers contrasted with the rest of the house, their bright yellow stark against the faded rooms. He spent most of his time in the garden or out talking to citizens, and when he came home the difference was staggering. Even now, so many years later, their absence hit him hard whenever he came home. It was so cold, so lonely.  
  
And even now, so many years later, he would lie alone in his bed and cry himself to sleep, wishing things were back the way they’d been.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if I like how this came out or not tbh but I wanted to write something sad about Asgore


End file.
